


But Too Much is Falling in Mine

by someonehasto



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, Pre-relationship X6-88/Mel if you want, Thoughts of Suicide, X6-88 refusing to think about things that upset him, descriptions of giant mutant ant bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 18:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15079025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonehasto/pseuds/someonehasto
Summary: The only thing X6-88 hates more than wasteland bugs is dealing with his repressed emotions about the loss of the Institute.





	But Too Much is Falling in Mine

**Author's Note:**

> A pal gave me some money for soda and in repayment I wrote this very

Bugs. He hated bugs.

In the Institute, every bug he had ever seen had been behind a glass case or dead in a trash receptacle.

The scientists had liked to study the mutated parasites of the wasteland. To measure the effects the world had on them, to synthesize cures for their bites, and to understand how to fight them. All of this had been important. And the few occasions X6-88 had found himself in the BioScience laboratory, he had hidden his disgust as well as any courser might. Their studies were important, he reminded himself, and the sickness he felt at their sight was nothing more than a glitch in programming to be tampered down and destroyed.

But in the wasteland...

There was a burning bright flash of pain in his side where the fire ant had torn past his armor. A pulsing, churning spread of venom before he blasted the foul mutant off of his side.

It fell, the last of its colony, into a burning heap on the ground. The smell of laser ammunition against guts allowing a rush of satisfaction to flood his synapses.

X6 felt himself lean into it, his hand gripped tight at his side. And then he straightened himself, the pain still screaming in him, and slowly let his hand rest at his side.

"Holy shit X are you ok?"

He turned, annoyance surfacing just over the agony.

Mel, popped his head over the dune he’d been hiding behind. Sonya came floating over, beeping curiously. Around them the irradiated hell spread out for miles.

"I've been bitten, but its dead." he replied.

"Shit shit shit ok."

Mel rushed over to him, his own cloths torn and burnt but in tact. His boots crunched and scraped over the ant bodies, the sound triggering something deeply uncomfortable in X6’s gut.

"How are you not screaming right now?" Mel said stopping just in front of him. His eyes were wide in horror and his hands hovered around his satchel and X6’s side.

Synths do not feel pain, he wanted to say. 

"I don’t need to scream."

Mel’s face slowly set from horror to disbelief. One thing X6 could say about the man was that he adapted quickly.

"This armor that you bought. It’s as cheap as I told you it was. These bugs tore through it with hardly any resistance."

And now Mel rolled his eyes. X6 kept himself from smirking.

"Yeah I see that now."

"Perhaps next time you’ll take my word over that of a third rate wasteland scaver."

“Oh piss off,” Mel said resting his hands on his hips. He circled the courser, trying to see just how bad the bite was.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s get you back to base.”

"We still need to collect the caps." X6 replied.

"No we gotta get you home pal."

"Need I remind you that we came out here for a reason. The caps are needed if you want the parts for the generator."

"Listen we have 2 to 3 hours before delirium sets in and I have no stimpacks. Let’s get you home, and worry about the reward later.”

"You’re far too short sighted."

"The ants will still be dead tomorrow.”

Mel put his hand on his shoulder. "Are you good to walk?"

X6 looked down at the hand on his body. He then looked at Mel. Mel lowered his hand and backed up.

“You good?”

He checked, feeling the ever present burning in his side.

"I’m still standing aren’t I?"

"But are you to walk?"

"Perfectly."

@@@

Mel had taken him in....after.

After months of wondering the wastes alone. Without much purpose. Betrayed and now abandoned by the one person he had thought he could trust. Forever surviving the one place, the one group of people, who could have saved the entirety of the hell he now walked.

It had felt almost Shakespearean in its tragedy, when he allowed himself a moment to think of it. He felt like the ancient Virgil, walking the purgatory of the world’s ruins. Doomed to wonder until his own body shut down and the last remnants of humanity’s potential fell apart. Left to decompose and be scavenged by vile mutants. The most advanced technology torn apart and broken down by filthy hands to be bartered for a few aluminum soda caps. But he didn’t let himself think that often.

@@@

Amidst the hellish landscape, shelter was now a few abandoned rooms, tucked away in an old building on the North side of the outer wall of Diamond City. It was hard to find. Five stories up away from the wildlife and set up with laser turrets of Mel's own design. Curious raiders or mutants were rarely ever capable of finding the place, but when they did, they weren’t there for long. The walls were sturdy and the ceiling had very few holes o patch. Mel had even managed to slap together a radiation shower that decontaminated them every time they entered. Rudimentary at best, but better than nothing.

They entered their shared home. The shower kicked on. The late afternoon light guiding there way through the cramped boarded up space. Sonya glided to her repair station in the corner of the main room. Mel followed suit, looking back constantly at X6.

“You good?” he kept asking. 

“Just hold on.” he kept saying.

“I’ve got a good stock of all the chems you’ll need.” he repeated for the eight time. X6 had been counting as a way to distract from his annoyance at the man, and the spreading pain at his side.

Mel ran immediately to his own room. X6 carefully place his gear next to him as he sat down on the burnt couch on the other side the room. He slowly removed his armor, laying it on the floor in neat folded piles. He’d be sure to find the scaver who had sold it to them and voice his complaints. Maybe not today. But certainly very soon.

Mel returned, hands full of various medical supplies.

“How is it?” he asked.

X6 looked down at the burning bite mark. Red, with blood boiling to the top. Purple around that with bruising and venom.

"Take this." Mel said tossing his the first stimpack and sitting next to him.

X6 injected it quickly into his arm watching as Mel tried to offer him Med-X. He waved it away.

X6 grabbed another stimpack and slammed it directly into the wound.

He noticed Mel’s staring out of the corner of his .

“What?”

Mel scrunched up his face.

“Fucking coursers.”

X6 went back to looking over the bandages, untangling them and finding the one least likely to infect the wound.

Mel pulled out a small container. An old preserves jar now stuffed with a dark purple slurry. He opened it and scooped a hefty glob into his fingers. X6 had only a second to realize it was heading to his injury before he gripped the man’s wrist.

"What do you think you’re doing?" he said, attempting to remain level toned.

"Trying to help the giant burning ant bite in your side." Mel replied. “You uh….you take a bump to the head when I wasn’t looking X?”

“You are not putting that garbage into an open laceration.”

"What do you mean? Mutfruit helps heal the burns.” Mel said yanking his wrist back.

“Exceedingly unlikely.”

“Come on don’t be like that.” he sighed, adjusting his position to get closer “Let me help you.”

“You’re not going to help by smearing irradiated fruit on me, regardless of what some witch doctor might have told you.”

“Listen I’m telling you this is a thing that’s worked for generations! It helps ease the burn and everything!I’ve used it myself. ”

X6 looked at him. The unspoken insult seemed to land as Mel glared.

“Shut up. I know this isn’t some Institute approved remedy, but it’s definitely been approved by 200 years of people actually living with these nasty ass bites.”

"You try to touch me with that glorified mutant shit I’ll strap you to that bot and set it to self-destruct."

Mel slapped the goop back into the container, rubbing the remainder into his own cuts and scrapes.

“Fine. Bastard.”

He didn’t try to help after that, instead getting to check over Sonya. X6 began to bandage himself then, trying to think past the pain.

The hideout was quiet except for Sonya’s every present chirps. Mel’s occasional fussy mumblings as he looked over the bot. In the distance, X6 could hear the sound of gunfire and over the hum of Diamond City’s electric lights. Eventually Mel started a fire in the small makeshift fireplace he’d constructed. Cooking up some unidentifiable meat for himself as he began work on patching up Sonya. It felt like just another normal day between jobs. 

X6 watched as the stimpacks slowly knitted his wound together. His skin reconnecting as the swelling subsided and the blood clotted. He thought of the pure white threads of unstrung muscle tissue. The slowly weaving ligaments of the robotics system.

The dirty white cloth bandaged moved over the healing wound and he decided to not think on it any more.

Properly bandaged, he stood up. 

“Ah.”

Mel turned to look at him and the motion made X6 dizzy. He was struck with a rush of warmth to his face. The oranges and red and deep blues of the room suddenly more vibrant. The couch behind him miles away, the old chair in the corner of the room tilting and churning where it sat. Sonya’s lights popping like bolts of lighting in the periphery of his vision. X6 took a step and stumbled.

“I believe the delirium has set in.” he said as calmly as he could.

He fell into Mel’s arms as he attempted to stop him from falling.

"Come on you glorified moody toaster let’s get you to your room." Mel said with a huff. "Maxon’s left tit you’re heavy

"If you insist on insults I can very well find my own way back."

“Shush.”

Mel pulled his arm over his shoulder. Unnecessary. Laughable even, considering the size of the man to X6. He looked at him. The red of his hair was shockingly bright now. The stubble of his chin now covered in pinpricks of light as it reflected the sunlight peaking through a crack in the window’s boarding. It contrasted well with the light blue jacket the man wore. Even the grease stains and droplets of Bobrov moonshine that lined his collar seemed to meld together like an old van Gogh. Charming.

“You wouldn’t even know who van Gogh was, would you?” he said with a sigh.

Ah, he caught himself. The delirium really was setting in.

Mel ignored him and X6 walked with him as he was led to the small rectangular room that constituted his bedroom.

@@@

Months of half won battles with mutants and beasts. Months without clean water, clean food, or clean living.

X6 had, in the few moments he allowed himself to think about it, considered self-termination. He certainly had the means to it. And perhaps, he thought, it was better to destroy himself. To have that last moment of certainty and pride in his existence, than to wait the decades to shut down. To be destroyed by his own hand, a hand crafted by the powers of the Institute, than to be killed by some opportunistic slobbering mutant after years of slow bodily degradation.

Months of sleeping in radiation and filth. Months of not a soul in the world to talk to.

Reason had won out

When he let himself think about it, X6 reasoned it was better to survive in the Boston ruins as a specter of a lost world, then to succumb to its torments and die alone, taking the last vestiges of true humanity with him. Perhaps, he thought, he might find some group or people who could (save humanity). Who might be able to tame the wasteland. At least someday. People, a cause, he could give himself to.

The likelihood was low. But even a fraction of a chance was better than none at all. X6 was not capable of human feelings such as hope, he thought, but being a creation of The Institute he was capable of understanding and computing chance. And he would not allow a glitching program imitating pride get in the way of reason.

Better to live on for a chance to salvage his mission, then destroy that possibility for a bit of broken code mimicking ego.

Months of wondering. Months of being hunted.

And then the half drunk red head blasting into a ravine, eyebot at the ready, trying and rescue him from an already dead deathclaw.

@@@

Mel sat X6 down onto the bed. X6 lowered himself further, stretching out on the mattress. It creaked, a puff of dust rising into the air. Disgusting. Dirty. Unsanitary.

The position took some of the pressure off the bite and being stationary was helping with the fluctuating colors. There was a surge of the fire at his side. He breathed in, closing his eyes.

Mel leaned forward, gently taking off X6’s sunglasses. The colors were even worse now. Powerful strong and...gaudy. He watched as Mel placed the glasses on the stand next to his bed. Careful not to scratch them. X6 felt his heart beat in his chest.

A sharp spike of pain in his side. He sucked his breath in before he could stop himself. But in moments his body was still. Lax. And Institute courser. The perfect machine.

"You’re allowed to be hurt X." Mel sighed, standing up straight and adjusting his jacket.

“There is no allowing it.” X6 replied slowly. His words felt cramped and messy. “There simply is the ability to feel pain or the lack thereof.”

Mel looked him over. His eyes framed by dark circles and dirt. But their sharpness was unable to hide. 

“You can feel pain.” he said with certainty. “I know you can.”

X6 looked at him, half obscured now by the pillow he lay on.

“A machine can not feel pain Mel.”

Mel sighed, shaking his head as he looked away. He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

X6 lay there in excruciating pain, watching the colors of the room pulsate to the beat of his synthetic heart.

In the next room Mel turned on the radio. The pathetic simpering young man on the radio was talking. A voice he’d come to loath for the past several months. But his stuttering gave way to music eventually. Not a song he liked, but something to focus on.

He'd heard the song a million times before. Some of the scientists had liked to tune in. Dr. Farner in Advanced Systems. Dr. Pullowski. Dr. Ren's daughter. He hated it but with the Institute radio signal gone…

X6 wondered now if that music would be lost forever. Those songs. Some over a thousand years old. Created by men who’s names were long forgotten.

These wastelanders. They knew none of the names of the scientists who had died. And soon even the Institute would be forgotten just like those composers. Not even a myth left to whisper. Those songs.

X6 breathed, feeling his back pushing into his bed. Delirium, he reminded himself, could effect a brain so strangely. Even an artificial one.

The pain in his side, he reminded himself. It was still there. And he tried to focus on it. The throbbing stinging pain. Fading, but there. X6 wanted to focus on that. Not his thoughts.

Thoughts. The word didn’t feel right to him. When had that happened? When had he started thinking of them as thoughts? X6-88 was a synthetic human. A machine. Anything that one would consider a thought was nothing more than complex code and electric pulses firing through lab made synapses. No he had never had thoughts. 

"Fuck." he whispered. He didn’t need to, but damn did it feel good.

X6 bit his lip, and the tears spilled over his cheeks and down his face. He focused on the ceiling.

@@@

“What do you mean. That’s it? That’s your name?”

“It’s not a name. It is my designation.”

“X6-88?”

“Yes.”

The red head squinted at him then shrugged. He held out the bottle of flat beer he’d been sipping at. X6 continued to clean his gun instead of taking it.

They were sat around a campfire. X6 had been to busy tearing apart the remains of the deathclaw to bother scaring the stranger away. He needed a claw as proof to his contractor that the settlement wrecking beast was dead. If the man decided to saddle up next to him and cook up his own meal, what did it matter?

“Well X6 if you need a place, I sure as hell wouldn’t mind a courser guarding my ass.” The man, Mel, said.

“And why would I want to guard the life of some drunkard wastelander?”

“Well I was going to try and save you from a deathclaw.” Mel sighed. “Thought I could gt you in on a life debt or something. But seeing as you already up and killed it…Maybe I can interest you in a solid roof over your head?”

X6 said nothing, finally reloading his gun.

“I mean, not too many people around here like you courser types exactly. I know you can handle yourself but it’s gotta be a pain in the ass getting shot at and living in the ruins.”

“Survival is an unpleasant necessity, that is true. But I don’t go around advertising my status as a courser to everyone I see.” he aimed his gun at Mel. “Which does beg the question, how you were able to figure it out?”

Mel raised one hand in surrender, using the other to finish his drink.

“Hey hey calm down now. Wasn’t trying to come across as threatening.”

“You’re not threatening.”

“Oh, good.” he dropped his hand to open another beer. He took a drink before finally answering.

“I mean ok, I’m sorry about the whole planned life debt thing. That was sort of (). But after I saw what you did to those raiders near Andrew Station I thought you’d be a good pick for bodygaurd.”

X6 cocked his gun.

“And!” Mel continued, talking faster but still calm. “I’ve pissed some people. Some big wig upper stand folks. Wannabe raiders. Gangs. A mayor. I’m not the sorta guy that goes looking for trouble but what can I say, it finds me.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Mel blinked.

“Well isn’t it obvious?”

X6 said nothing.

“Well aside from the fact that you murder like it’s your job. Everything about you.” Mel laughed. “Your stance says trained soldier but your fighting style ain’t Brotherhood. Least not from what I’ve experienced. Your laser pistol stock isn’t any I’ve ever seen, but it’s similar enough in design to some scrapped synth guns that the relationship is obvious. You’ve shown an utter disgust at Takahasi’s noodles I ain’t seen anyone human ever make. All your armor has all the markings of being hand altered, but has radiation shielding and fire retardant. Not many folks out here know how to make that.”

Mel took another drink, holding up his finger to wait.

“And lastly you eat a lot fancy lad snack cakes. Little known fact I’ll share with you, as someone who’s had to scrap through a lot of synths for parts, but yall seem to have an obsession with em.” 

He continued on with his meal, not bothering to look at him. His robot, Sonya floated around the two of them aimlessly. The wateland was quiet for a time

“The fact that I’m a courser, that doesn’t seem to scare you.” X6 said.

Mel snorted, wiping grease from his chin. “Oh I’m terrified. But what am I gonna do? Try to outrun a courser?”

X6 felt the side of his mouth twitch up. He lowered his gun, and went back to working on it.

@@@

He hadn’t known he’d fallen asleep. All he knew was that his eyes opened, and he was looking at the ceiling of his room. Sun setting. Darker. A bright, but tame, pink light shining in past an uncovered crack in his bedroom window.

X6’s mouth was dry and his head throbbing. His sinuses felt both sharp and clogged at once. He ran a hand down his face. Weirdly dry and cool.

He blinked slowly, recalling the events of just before he had fallen asleep.

His side throbbed. Dull. Nothing more than a skin deep ache.

X6 rose slowly, cautious of the possible pain. But none came. He stretched his back and limbs. Everything accounted for and feeling up to parr. He searched around for a shirt and some light armor of his own design. Something that wouldn’t be torn apart by a simple bug. Grabbing his glasses off the night stand he headed out into the next room.

Mel was working away at his weapons bench, the bright sparks of a blow torch being expertly guided by his gloved hands. Sonya was humming around the room, the radio on her speakers playing some song. Different than the one X6 had fallen asleep to but still unbareably awful.

X6 looked around, finding the pile of torn up armor on the floor. He poked at it with his boot, mind slowly forming a plan for the evening.

“There you are.” Mel said.

He turned and saw him wiping grease from his face.

“By my accounts that was a good 4 hours you were asleep. Feeling any better?”

“The pain is mostly gone now.”

“Good.” Mel said reloading his shotgun. “What do you say we go get our reward and hunt down a cheap ass scaver?”

“That sounds,” he paused to put on his glasses before looking to Mel “Delightful.”

Mel smiled at him and X6 decided, only this once, to allow himself the faintest smirk.


End file.
